Assault on Perfection
by As An Ember Burns
Summary: A continuation of the Tremors franchise, picking up where the series left off. There was an incident. People were called in to fix it. Vincent was one of them. It was for her. It was... an assault on perfection... and it was gonna be a long day. Disclaimer-I do not own any characters or rights to the Tremors series, movies, or express their opinions. This is a work of fiction.
1. A Long Day

Vincent drew his sights on the graboid's opening mouth, noting a diving assblaster, a few shriekers not far behind, and knew… without a doubt… that today was gonna be a long day.

Vincent took his time, going through his morning routine. He woke, had his Keurig coffee, sat at his computer, and began to look for work.

He clicked through his various darknet sites for contracts, after pulling up his low-profile bank accounts. The balance read $8,779.73. This alone would last him barely a week in the field. He needed money, and badly.

He glanced at the framed photograph on the side of his desk, and immediately looked away, noting his conscience pricked sharply about his career choice. _Just one more job, love. _It's what he always thought when he saw her face, freckled and framed by curly, mad, dark hair.

He sighed, and gave up on his coffee. It was bitter with memories. It was her idea of a morning well spent.

Vincent pulled up one last message from one of his darknet sites. One message was new on it.

Re: Advertisement

To whom it may concern,

In response to an advertisement(s) posted, you have been emailed this response, which includes a manner of contact. Should you choose to accept the job, you will be transported to a briefing checkpoint, where you will be given a set for the task, under conditions, and payment shall be arranged.

Contact is text 'Verily' to 3458293947 ext. 973.

Sincerely,

An anxious customer

_ Shit. A blind job. Going in knowing nothing. _

Vincent looked at his account once more. He didn't have a choice. He needed the money. _If only for her sake._

He had another cup of coffee. Today was gonna be a long day.

Upon his immediate text, a response was given that a small Neon would be en-route in just under 10 minutes to pick him up for the ride to the briefing checkpoint. At least he had time for a quick shave and a bite before it got here. Thankfully it would text in a 3-2-1 fashion to let him know it was there.

He got comfortable in his custom Faded Glory jeans, and new cut Air Speed shoes. He winced getting his black tank over his scarred left clavicle, remembering her voice. He sighed once before continuing to get on his six-holster strap piece. *click* _nice and tight. Like death's embrace. _

Right as he tugged on his leather bomber jacket, and shades, a text came through.

He walked from his secretly fortified apartment, going out through the normal doors lie everyone else.

_ What else was he, but a desperate civilian with bigger bills._

He got in the faux-leather backed seat of the car. It took off, right as he clicked his belt into place.

He noted the look of the driver. Non-descript, with a zombie look about him.

"Any chance ya might tell me where I get to chat to the guys in black suits and ties, and they tell me to find the guy named Morpheus?" he said nonchalantly.

No response from the driver.

He sighed. "I knew it. Today is gonna be a long day."

He entered a building near the border of Nevada, a nice concrete building, with little features outside, no detail giving away what lay inside, what lay in wait for him.

He followed his escort, his medium-length dark hair getting lightly tossed by the breeze.

He entered a glass front and followed his escort by a desk reception. The escort showed a card, and the receptionist ignored anyone following behind, namely, him.

"The welcoming committee seems quite overjoyed." Vincent dropped with his usual sarcasm.

No response still.

Today was gonna be a long day.

All the briefing did for him, was a simple file to read en-route to his job's location.

Cheers.

A set of coordinates and some objectives was the only thing in the packet. There was also some tactical tips.

Something involving stage 1 as get to high ground, then the second as staying hidden, mostly for body heat, and later to watch the skies under the same pretense.

_ What the hell is this garbage? Probably some live fire training exercise for some rich money was good anyways. Over 73 million, and a 50k life policy. This would be worth it._

_ It would also be his last job._

He betrayed none of his thoughts to the outside world.

He closed the file and replaced it on the desk.

"So where do I get supplied?"

The attending instructor nodded to a now-see-through wall.

Weapons galore burnished the rigged wall.

"Oh?" he said, eyeing the wall, eyebrow raised.

The sheer amount of weapons was overwhelming. He noted a few were missing.

_ So, I'm not the only one. I'll keep that information for later. _

He picked a handful of varying high caliber, silenced handguns. All were power-grip customized.

Vincent also grabbed a few mini-blocks of C4 and other tiny gadgets, namely a couple throwing knives, a grenade, and a pair of walkies that came with extra wires and snips.

Noting the amount of hardware he had to choose from, he grabbed three packs of MREs and pocketed them.

The instructor made a note on the clipboard smiling.

"Today's gonna be a long day, huh?"

Another smile in answer.

He was being carted into the area with a select handful of others. It was some valley.

He was still bothered by the coordinates. Something itched at the back of his mind.

He touched the picture in his pocket.

_ One more job, love._

He peeked out of the window of his transport, noting there were 5 total.

Two people hired per.

Ten people for this job?

Noting they were on the same way he was, he assumed so.

He checked out his company in the next back passenger seat. The man was bald, tribal tattoos covering some spots, and a tense air about him.

The silent type. This would suck.

He noted that two of the transports were caravan-style, like they held cargo or something.

They did indeed have cargo, for next, there was action.

Out of both the two large transport vehicles, bikes alternately dropped out, immediately turning about from their rear-drop and zipping past, as the two transports attempted to turn around.

One would never return to base.

Immediately upon the bikes zipping ahead, an ever-so-slight rumbling happened.

A lump in the ground got close to one of the four bikers.

The biker immediately sunk down in the dirt, bike and all. The next moment the bike was propelled from the dirt, sans biker, and slammed into the tank section of the caravan, setting an explosive entrance to what Vincent realized now was Perfection Valley.

He panicked, looking to his company now with wide eyes.

He shouted "GRABOID!" not knowing whether the man knew English.

The intense look before intensified further.

The cars started an arc maneuver, and the one caravan escaped the wrath of these terrifying lumps of dirt, zipping at over 20 miles an hour.

'The car will turn sharply in 5 seconds. Exit the car via gull doors. Tuck and roll. Good luck.'

Vincent readied himself by the tinted window.

The door popped up, the car arcing.

Both he and Tattoos rolled towards a strip of road, barely a football field from some buildings he assumed was Perfection.

One man who tucked and rolled in Vincent's vision never got to stand up, as he was pulled into an early grave. Graboid.

"Shit!"

He got to his feet, two silenced hand guns at the ready, after he dropped a grenade where he once was. He started running forward.

B-BOOOM!

The grenade caused some of the rumbling to calm, and go away.

Then another horrendous thing happened.

A rumbling graboid burst out of the ground barely 30 feet away from him, right where he was running.

Vincent drew his sights on the graboid's opening mouth, noting a diving assblaster, a few shriekers not far behind, and knew… without a doubt… that today was gonna be a long day.


	2. A Great Ride

Vincent took one look at the keys in his hand, glanced out the crack in the blinds, seeing the tour car, and knew this was gonna be a great ride.

Vincent drew his sights on the graboid's opening mouth, noting a diving assblaster, a few shriekers not far behind, and knew… without a doubt… that today was gonna be a long day.

Vincent made a couple mental notes in this moment of clarity.

The town was barely a football field away.

Even though one man was already eaten, there were 8 others to be munched on, just like him.

One was right near him to help.

He had enough bullets to fulfill the deaths of some things here, and get to cover for the next step.

Vincent ran over left of the graboid. Tattoos ran right.

Vincent shot two shriekers getting close, and Tattoos pegged the last three.

Vincent made a lucky shot to the neck of the assblaster, allowing it to fall on the graboid that was now between the two.

The graboid was distracted long enough by the corpse that the two made it to the edge of town.

Three others were making it to the civilian house on the north side. Tattoos went for the Chang's Market on his right.

Vincent knew to hide in the first thing available would be a mistake.

He allowed the remaining three bikers to distract the couple of graboids and whatever other non-friendlies.

He got to the short house, getting in the door and locking immediately stepping from the door, and making an inventory count.

_Two handguns: 6 clips, 2 in already, used 5 shots, making 75 bullets total._

_Ten throwing knives._

_Four C4 blocks._

_Walkies, wires and snips._

_And of course, 3 MREs. Might have to make a meal out here in battle._

It was meager considering the graboids, but the C4 blocks evened things out, and the other people, assuming most of them survived the entry, unlike the first biker.

Vincent shuddered at the thought of going out like that. No fight, no roar of gunfire, just a helpless moment, and then… darkness.

_She held his hand, his pained grip alluding to meds not kicking in quite for the sustained injury._

He shook his head, giving his mind a physical thing to do to shake out the mental one.

Now Vincent kicked into survival mode.

He tiptoed around the tiny 3-room house near the trailer.

He found a pair of binoculars and some .22 bullets. Vincent pocketed all 20, knowing this was going to be a siege with the graboids. Finding nothing else of use, he took note of his objectives.

Stage 1 was to stay off ground. Not quite achieved, but manageable.

Stage 2 was to hide body heat from the sides. Mostly achieved in the house.

Stage 3 was to keep airborne sights under the same conditions. Again, mostly achieved.

Objective, to get to location Beta and activate control sequence procedures in the main control room.

Sub-objective, to wipe out any hyper-evolving Precambrian life-forms, and possible persons.

Vincent leaned against the south-facing window, getting his binoculars ready.

He checked the sky and immediate vicinity.

Nothing seemed close enough now.

The assumption was that only graboids were in the area.

_Wasn't the only one left sterile though? This would mean something happened with either a discovery of more, or somehow El Blanco was converted to make more of these cunning, dangerous things._

Vincent looked at the windows of Chang's Market.

_Where was Tattoos?_

Sudden movement. An edge of a face in the window. Tattoos was there, being silent, as he was.

He saw Tattoos doing what he did for the house, grabbing a few things, and…

_Was that a Twinkie? Did he seriously just have a…_

Vincent smiled letting go of the thought and was about to duck back to think how he was going to proceed when he saw something.

There was movement on the east side of the market, next to the water tower.

A shrieker was milling near the front, lolling its tongue out, generally searching for the team members.

Then it got the bright idea to use its heat sensory organs.

"Damn!" Vincent breathed, crouching in front of the door, both guns at the ready.

REEEeeEEEE!

The beast had spotted food.

Vincent tensed.

Thump thump thump went some feet.

Vincent was ready. He even eyed the back window for a quick exit.

Crash!

His door never moved.

Vincent got back into viewing position.

The shrieker was going after Tattoos!

There was a flurry of movement through the windows, as Tattoos used a knife, jumping over a table, getting in position to knife the organs on the head.

Rumble Rumble rumble

A dust trail puffed to the market, followed by another.

Graboids!

Vincent watched in awe, as Tattoos was assaulted by every creature in the vicinity.

Boards broke from the floor of the market, breaking windows, making holes in the walls.

_Oh yeah, I should get ready to finish the job._

Vincent quietly got over to the metal shack that served as a garage on the east side of town, across from the water tower, and kiddy corner to the market.

The crashing resumed, but died down a bit.

Vincent spotted some keys.

He picked them up.

_Oh yeah, the tour guide. My ride now. Where exactly is the ride?_

Vincent took one look at the keys in his hand, glanced out the crack in the blinds, seeing the tour car, and knew this was gonna be a great ride.


	3. A Familiar Face

Vincent saw some smoke in the distance, noted a fence, and some things circling the structure he knew so well from his briefing, and knew he just might live to see a familiar face.

Vincent pocketed the keys, thinking through a plan to get free of the pre-Cambrian assault.

They were at least down two members on the team, which left eight of them. _Or less…_

Vincent took note he had the same inventory as before. He also noted he was outnumbered by the creatures in the immediate vicinity.

So, that left one plan. _Distraction._

He would have to make sure they took notice of something other than his direction. This was gonna take a few minutes to set up, and it could easily go wrong at any minute.

He was gonna have to set up a distraction on the other side of the town, to get them away from him enough to start up the tour jeep, and hopefully get away without any hiccups along the way.

_So, one C4… um… _

Vincent spotted a flask of something alcoholic on the shelf next to him and immediately figured out how the plan was gonna be perfect, save for the flying dangers.

Vincent wired the C4 to also splinter and spread the flames from the flask, and replaced the cap neatly. It would have to be just enough to hold their attention for a few minutes. He could then regroup, shooting down whatever necessary along the way out of town, probably heading East to the secondary checkpoint if he could. Maybe… _just maybe… _he could finish this off and be set for life.

He peeked out of one of the shack's windows. Two graboids were rummaging the Market, a pair of shriekers were also looking for food, and an assblaster on the roof too.

He resumed his position behind the wall, but not touching the wall, crouched. He knew they might catch onto his body heat through the flimsy metal walls. He would have to go behind the shack, the house and garden on the north side, then set up the C4 in the trailer house, and return to the tour jeep, blow the C4 and wait 30 seconds for all of them to catch on.

Vincent took a deep breath.

He checked all windows.

The Market looked the same. He no longer saw the assblaster on the roof. That sucked. It might be flying again. The house had a single shrieker milling about the walls. He could deal with that when the time called for it, and hopefully not get screwed over in the act. Nothing visible by the trailer house.

_OK, time to get this party started._

Vincent slid the right door open enough to get out, but not for a curious carnivore to get in.

He stepped slowly, and as lightly as he could around the shack, placed the keys in the car, making it easy for his getaway.

He got around the shack with no problem. It only took him two minutes. He was making good time.

He got past part of the house with no problem, but as he was about to round the corner, a rumbling shook the ground. He IMMEDIATELY halted.

A few seconds later, a graboid poked a tongue out of the ground near his boots. He kept _very _still. He had to make sure no more followed him.

To make an interesting point just a little better, the shrieker finally milled its way around the house, poking its jaws around the corner.

Vincent thought fast, whipping his throwing knives at its sensory organs before anything could happen out of his control. It immediately shrieked, getting the attention of the immediate graboid, which proceeded to retracted its tongue and spout its mouth directly under the shrieker, making a quick snack, as Vincent made an opportunity of this moment to skirt the graboid, and get to the other side of the house, using the graboid's commotion as a cover noise for his footsteps.

His encounter left him with a little adrenaline, and a small shake to his fingers.

He once again took a deep breath.

He rounded the house, crouching through the foliage put up a little around the left of the house. He reconned the Market and trailer house. The two graboids were still there, so were the pair of shriekers, munching on canned food, and the graboids enjoying the scraps of what he supposed was jerky.

The assblaster was not on the roof, confirming what he thought to be another in-flight danger.

He mentally recounted threats.

Three graboids total, about three shriekers, and three possible assblasters, with a wary note that there may be more. A small squad of pre-Cambrian creatures.

He saw movement on the roof.

He brought his binoculars out, knowing how pressed for time he was.

He saw Tattoos. _Christ! He was still alive?!_

Tattoos made some hand signals.

FOUGHT WITH THEM/HID IN MEAT LOCKER FOR 30/ USED CEILING LADDER/KILLED ASSBLASTER/ MADE BOMB FROM ITS ASS

At this point, he held up a crude pipe with fuse and a small spot of white on it.

_Ah, using the combustible pair as a crude reactive bomb. Not bad._

He signaled back MADE USE OF KNIVES TO TAKE DOWN A SHRIEKER/ ALLOWED GRABOID TO EAT IT/ TIPTOED HERE/ GONNA BLOW UP TRAILER HOUSE/ DISTRACTION/ USE TOUR VEHICLE TO GET TO SECOND CHECKPOINT/ GET READY/ WATCH FOR ASSBLASTERS

Tattoos nodded, keeping an eye readily on the sky. He probably also knew that there was probably more of these things, and their probability of success was low.

He crept slowly over to the trailer house. It had been five minutes.

He set the charge, and carefully got over to the doorway, noting the graboids were gone from the holes in the Market, a shrieker was still munching through the store, still not quite sated.

He momentarily wondered where the other shrieker was, before the thought was quickly answered.

A disfigured jaw peered around the edge to the trailer house, a plan already in place.

He threw a pair of knives into its sensory organs, allowing it to make a commotion, feeling the expected rumble, and letting the graboid enjoy a ready snack.

It was then that he noted the other shrieker using its sensory organs on him.

He didn't hesitate, he ran, immediately flagged by two ground-level smoke puffs and a pair of shriekers.

_Ah, so there were four._

He detonated the C4 block, scaring away the graboids way past himself, they had ignored him to get away from the sound, and the shriekers were still following him, and a noted assblaster circling the area.

He ducked around the shack jumped into the tour jeep and used the tarp in the back to cover himself.

He waited until the thumping feet passed him just enough.

He got into the front seat immediately, revving the engine, and running down the center of town, allowing Tattoos to jump in the front seat, passing the flames and a pair of assblasters circling the fire, he immediately U-turned and went back down the road of town, and as he passed the junkyard, another agent jumped the Cat and got their fender, banging his head along the corner of the bumper.

The skinny agent was almost KO'd, but barely hung onto the chain piece on the back.

He pulled himself into the back, bleeding and shaking his head.

He looked at the both of them, and back at the few shriekers trying to follow.

"You coulda let me know we were gonna have fireworks. I woulda had some real fun for them in mind."

Tattoos smiled lightly, as Vincent smirked.

He noted an assblaster trailing the sky behind them.

So they had a few followers.

As Tattoos was about to draw a handgun on the trailing dangers, the skinny Agent tossed a thing with a popped pair of flares on it behind them.

They watched the shriekers and assblaster trailing after it.

"Wait for it." Said the skinny guy.

The creatures got right up to the flares.

A moment later… BOOM!

An explosion blew them to bits.

"And that makes four graboids, three assblasters, and …" Skinny thought about it. "… four shriekers in the town's vicinity." The two looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I was a bit more of a scouting specialist, I guess you'd say." He said in response.

Tattoos nodded in a note of small thought.

Vincent turned back to the road.

Tatoos noted a small screen beneath the dash.

It was a geophone monitoring screen.

And they were a red arrow. Ahead of them by a quarter mile and closing was a few red dots all in a line. They were headed right towards graboids lined up to the southern border.

"SHIT!" Vincent said, swerving them to head North, when they were barely a mile out of Perfection.

Tatoos had noticed and held onto his seat. Skinny had tumbled around the back, again hitting his head on metal things.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked sitting upright, but a bit dazed.

Vincent simply pointed out the screen attached to the bottom of the dash.

"Oh." Skinny said lamely.

"Yup." Vincent said in basic response.

They were gonna pass a bit of wreckage, some black SUV and a flame or two left.

Vincent swerved sharply away, as a shrieker turn about the hood of the vehicle, and almost ran over a small herd of them behind a large desert bush, causing them to have to do a full circle, again gaining followers, another graboid on the radar, and oh so much fun, the assblaster that was circling the last flames.

As they did this full circle, a few things were swept up out of the flames.

A piece of paper flew into Vincent's face. He grabbed it out of reflex.

It said something about Rancheros, and had a partial name. Melvin. The rest was covered in ashes and blood.

"Aw shit." Vincent said, as he leadfooted the gas.

Tattoos simply raised an eyebrow, Skinny made a face in askance.

"It would appear the locals have recently made acquaintance with the things again." Stated Vincent.

"Twelve graboids, four assblasters and fifteen shriekers."

Skinny's face was set in a grim line.

He then tossed another bundle with flares behind them.

Ten seconds later an explosion rocked behind them.

Skinny smiled, his dirty blonde locks swishing into his face. "Twelve graboids, four assblasters and four shriekers."

The two smiled grimly back, knowing the war to come should they run out of gas… or worse.

The gas gauge was thankfully on ¾, so not too much chance of that happening.

"Names?" asked Skinny.

Tattoos raised an eyebrow, but answered anyways "Améd Zha'kahn." He answered, an obvious middle eastern name by the pronunciation and noted apostrophes in the sounds of it.

Vincent at least remembered the first name. The last would be a pain.

"Willy Williams. The friends call me Willy." He stated, then looked at Vincent, as did Tattoos, though with a calm, watchful expression.

_Should they have something of me? A label to attach?_

After a moments' hesitation, he answered "Vincent."

They all got silent for a bit, with only the assblaster trailing and the graboids to keep them wary.

Willy tossed three shots its way and killed it, distracting one graboid.

He reloaded, then looked back at them, and asked "Inventory?"

"Two handguns: 6 clips, 2 in already, used 5 shots, making 75 bullets total. Six throwing knives. Two C4 blocks. Walkies, wires and snips. 3 MREs." Vincent rattled off.

"Two handguns: two clips, 2 in already, a short pair of dual swords, and 28, no 27 knives." They both raised eyebrows. In response Améd simply pulled one coat side open, revealing knives strapped across his torso, and hips, with the two aforementioned guns cradled at his chest level in nicely strapped holsters.

They both made faces equivalent to saying 'Not bad.'

Willy then looked at himself, and said "Small Nail gun: 20 nail clips, 10 in already, totaling 210 nails, three pipe and fuse combos for explosives, two flare bombs, and wires, circuit boards and wire cutters, plus five MREs."

The nail gun raised an eyebrow, but the MREs really raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes scouting became long-term." He shrugged.

They continued their gaze towards their new temporary destination, obstacles and weapons in mind.

Vincent saw some smoke in the distance, noted a fence, and some things circling the structure he knew so well from his briefing, and knew he just might live to see a familiar face.


	4. Update 1

Status update file

Two handguns: 6 clips, 2 in already, used 5 shots, making 75 bullets total, Six throwing knives, Two C4 blocks, Walkies, wires and snips.3 MREs- Vincent

Two handguns: two clips, 2 in already, a short pair of dual swords, and 28, no 27 knives- Améd

Small Nail gun: 20 nail clips, 10 in already, totaling 210 nails, three pipe and fuse combos for explosives, two flare bombs, and wires, circuit boards and wire cutters, plus five MREs- Willy

Surviving Known agents-8/10

Known Dead Townsfolk:

Melvin, Rancheros CEO

Objective progress:

Passed checkpoint A (Perfection), attempting to subdue pre-cambrian life forms en route to checkpoint B.

Progress will be continued to be monitored.

End Transmission


End file.
